


hold me closer (tiny dancer)

by torigates



Category: Bones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular belief, Sweets actually had responsibilities at the FBI besides consulting on cases for the Jeffersonian and acting as go-to shrink for its employees (plus Agent Boot</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold me closer (tiny dancer)

 

 

 

  


>   
>  Contrary to popular belief, Sweets actually had responsibilities at the FBI besides consulting on cases for the Jeffersonian and acting as go-to shrink for its employees (plus Agent Booth). He very well could have stayed on, not only as consultant, but performing his regular job description which included (but was not limited to): clearing agents for field duty after any number of traumatic or stressful situations, providing psychological advice and counselling to agents and any number of other federal employees, participating in and/or running any number of current research projects, and well, he had a lot to do, okay?
> 
> And that wasn’t even including the outside work he did, writing articles for journals, his own book.
> 
> He had more than enough to occupy his time at the FBI, with or without the employees of the Jeffersonian (and Agent Booth). He didn’t _need_ them to keep on working there.
> 
> And yet, and yet.
> 
> He called Cam.
> 
> “What?” she barked into the phone. It was hard for Cam, he knew. As much as Sweets didn’t necessarily need everyone to still do his job, Cam literally did not have her job with everyone gone. At least not in the same way as before. If it was hard for Sweets, it was ten, one hundred times harder for her.
> 
> Lance held the receiver away from his ear, raising his eyebrows in question, as if she could actually see him. “Someone is cranky since she moved into the basement,” he remarked mildly.
> 
> It made sense, then, that they’d gravitated toward one another. It started out innocently enough, dinner, drinks, movies, and somehow whatever it was they had between them had grown into something unexpected. Lance wasn’t one to question a good thing. Cam, he knew, was having a little more trouble with it.
> 
> “Oh,” her voice softened a little. “It’s you.”
> 
> “I hate my job,” he told her. He was tempted to put his feet up on the desk, but settled for spinning around in his chair. This proved to be a better idea in theory, as he was quickly hopelessly tangled in the phone cord.
> 
> “No you don’t,” she said. “Besides, it could be worse. You could be working in a basement.”
> 
> “That’s true,” Sweets allowed. He tried to detangle himself, slowly spinning his chair in the opposite direction. He could picture the way Cam would be rolling her eyes right about now. “Didn’t you work for the NYPD?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be used to it, grit, grime, lack of funding?”
> 
> She sighed. “The Jeffersonian spoiled me.”
> 
> And there was the crux of it all.
> 
> “Did you call for a reason?” she asked after a moment of companionable silence. Sweets shook himself out of his reverie, his thoughts on his absent colleagues and Cam. It seemed like Cam was on his mind a lot these days.
> 
> “To tell you I hate my job?” he said. “Remember?” That, and the fact that he started to miss her if they went more than a few hours without speaking. It was getting to be a problem.
> 
> “You don’t hate your job,” she said easily.
> 
> “I do.”
> 
> “You love your job.”
> 
> “I really don’t.”
> 
> “You really do.”
> 
> She was right. They’d had this conversation before, and deep down Sweets knew that she was right. In fact, he really sort of loved his job. He just didn’t love it right now. He was tired and overwhelmed, and when it came down to it, he missed his friends.
> 
> “You just miss working with me,” she said.
> 
> “That’s true,” he allowed, a small smile on his face.
> 
> She was quiet. Sweets hoped he wasn’t flattering himself when he pictured a small blush rising on her cheeks.
> 
> “Do something else then,” she suggested, changing the topic. That was how it always worked with them; the two of them circling around the issue, both of them a little too scared to look it directly in the eye, as if as soon as one of them acknowledged what was there, they’d be forced to deal with it. Sweets thought he was almost ready.
> 
> “Oh, because I have a lot of transferrable skills,” he scoffed. “Besides, I don’t _really_ hate my job. I’m sure I’ll want to come back eventually.” When everyone else gets back was left unspoken between them.
> 
> “Take a sabbatical?” she suggested. “They seem to be all the rage lately.”
> 
> He laughed at that.
> 
> Still, he thought about it. They chatted for a few minutes longer, eventually making plans to grab lunch the next day.
> 
> “I thought about what you said,” he told her a few days later over dinner.
> 
> “Oh?” she asked, and raised an eyebrow. “I saw a lot of things, you’re going to have to give me a little more to work with.” She jabbed a few pieces of the pasta she was eating and took a bite.
> 
> “I’m going to take a sabbatical.”
> 
> She put down her fork. “What?”
> 
> “I’m going to take some time off work,” he said, watching her face closely for her reaction. She had been the one to suggest it, but suddenly he was nervous she wouldn’t like the idea, or that she hadn’t been serious, and that the whole thing was a huge mistake. He really hoped it wasn’t a mistake, he had submitted the paperwork to his boss earlier that day.
> 
> “No,” she said.
> 
> “No?” he asked, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.
> 
> “Don’t leave me!” She held her expression for another beat, and then smirked.
> 
> He rolled his eyes, hiding his relief. “I’m not going anywhere. I just want a break. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m was a bit of a child prodigy.”
> 
> Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.
> 
> “Alright, ego aside, I went straight from school to grad school, to working at the FBI. I want a break.”
> 
> She nodded.
> 
> “I’m not leaving,” he said.
> 
> She nodded again. Sweets thought he saw something like relief in her eyes. It was there only a second, and then it was gone.
> 
> “I’m not,” he paused for dramatic effect. “I’m going to play the piano.”
> 
> She choked on her mouthful.
> 
> He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent piano player.”
> 
> “Okay, Rain Man.”
> 
> “Ha ha,” he said, and took a bite of his own dinner, hoping his injured pride wouldn’t show on his face.
> 
> It must have. Cam reached forward and took his hand. “No seriously,” she said. “I think that’s great. Where can I come hear you play?”
> 
> “Oh, you can’t.” He avoided eye contact
> 
> “Why not?”
> 
> “Because,” he said lamely.
> 
> “Because...?”
> 
> He mumbled under his breath.
> 
> “Come again?” she asked.
> 
> She didn’t stop laughing for five minutes when he told her where he’d be playing.
> 
>   
> 


End file.
